


Click

by Nemuresu



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Conditioning, F/M, Getting Hard on Public Spaces, M/M, Oral Sex, Pavlovian response, Spoilers for the Alpha, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Binding Habits, Watching Other People Have Sex, brief mention of self harm, but in a really ambiguous way, clicker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemuresu/pseuds/Nemuresu
Summary: Sidestep has put in a few months into this new project of his, time to see if it works.





	Click

**Author's Note:**

> This is written with my cocky bastard Cyrus in mind and a rewrite of an older fic I did inspired by Katrine's Topstep series (you can find them here on ao3). Like most things, this can be blamed on the discord (but mostly me and Kat)

**Click**

_A hand pulling his hair back, soft words spoken at the edge of his ear, “C’mon, Ricardo. Don’t tell me you are close already?” The words are followed by a bite to his neck and by now he knows Cyrus too well to expect it not to be painful, yet the sensation makes him gasp all the same. From his left comes the clicking noise again, and he lets out a moan as Cyrus thrusts in again. Fuck. He doesn’t want to admit it but he_ is _close. He half hears, half feels a chuckle against his skin and knows that it was all on purpose. Cyrus planned this from the very beginning, the alcohol, the girls, the guy from the night before- Well, they have a bet going and even if Cyrus cheated, Ortega still has full intention of winning._

_“Why? Worried you might not last long enough?”, Ortega manages to get out and is almost proud of how steady his voice sounds, “Don’t worry, vida, I wouldn’t hold it against you.” It even sounds proud. He feels Cyrus inhale sharply and mutter something that sounds like ‘corny piece of shit’ and grins as he gets ready for what is about to come. As much as he might try to deny it, Cyrus is way too easy to rile up. And in this situation, Cyrus losing control can only work on his favo- A groan is ripped out of his throat as the rhythm of the thrusts change. Harder. Faster. Rougher. Cyrus has definitely lost his cool. Ortega grins to himself. He definitely won’t be the one w-_

**Click**

_He is on his knees, a woman holding his head in place and grinding down hard on him. He can’t exactly remember her name, but he knows she works with Cyrus. Remembers having seen her once or twice when going about his business and even if he didn’t, she’d come in to deliver a report to Cyrus. Not a lot of people who get to see him if they don’t work for him. Ortega is a rare exception and he is well aware of that fact._

_She probably is as well, considering the first thing she had done upon noticing him was ask what he was doing here. “Oh,” Cyrus had answered after a quick glance towards Ortega, “he’s entertainment.” The shrug that followed was casual, but Ortega knew well the little smirk that accompanied it wasn’t at all surprised by the words that followed it: “You’ve been working hard lately. You deserve a break. Take him for a spin if you are up to it.”_

_She shot Ortega a hesitant glance as she put the report on the table in front of Cyrus, but Ortega couldn’t help but smirk at the fire he could spot underneath. He didn’t mind putting on a show when it was asked of him._

_The thing is that as soon as it became clear what was going to happen, Cyrus started reading that fucking report. And he still hasn’t looked up. He didn’t look up at the sound of the woman unbuckling her pants, didn’t bat an eye at her soft cursing, didn’t even glance their way when she started moaning loudly. He just sits there and reads his report, lazily clicking that clicker of his. The woman’s nails dig into his scalp and Ortega is having a bit of hard time breathing with how close she is holding him, but he’s not about to complain. That doesn’t bother him. He likes it. Makes him think of the way Cyrus’s nails dig into his shoulder so hard it bled the first time Ricardo ate him out. Makes him think of the way Cyrus demanded to set the pace every time after that in an attempt to be more in control, even though it never works. Makes him think of Cyrus who just. won't. look. He twists his tongue just right and the woman_ screams _. Cyr-_

**Click**

_There he is. Lying on the bed. Completely naked. Guard down. His skin a puzzle of old scars, new wounds, piercings and tattoos. His red hair is spread around his face in an even bigger mess than usual and Ortega can easily see the brown roots. Sometimes he wonders what even is the point of dying it if Cyrus always gets too bored to touch it up. “Are you going to just stare all night long?”, Cyrus asks, annoyance clear on both his voice and his expression, but Ortega knows it isn’t just_ that _. Cyrus is impatient, sure, but that isn’t the whole story._

_Even though they have been together like this for a long while, the moments when Cyrus lets his guard down like this are rare. Moments when he decides to let Ortega lead, let him set the pace and accepts however slow and drawn out it may be. Moments where Cyrus allows himself to be cared for and lets other take care of him are few and far in between. It’s also something that Ricardo knows Cyrus hasn’t done with anyone else, despite sleeping with other people. Cyrus is nervous about this. Ortega knows that bringing attention to it will just end up on him being shut out and avoided for at least a week, so instead he hums non committally  before picking up the clicker on the bedside and throwing it Cyrus’s way, “Wouldn’t want to forget your little project, would you?”_

_Cyrus grabs it easily. His reflexes are good. Always have been. He holds it so hard his knuckles turn white and lets out a breath, clicking it experimentally. “Seems like your old age hasn’t taken your memory at least,” he says, voice too tight for Ortega to even mind the insult._

_When Ricardo’s fingers touch his skin, he flinches slightly, but neither of them mention it. They ignore it, just like they ignore the orange lines against Cyrus’s skin, the self inflicted scars and the way he will occasionally spend days wearing a binder without letting his body rest. Cyrus has never been easy, and Ortega doesn’t think he could in good conscience ever hope for their relationship to be, so instead he ignores the flinch and trusts that Cyrus will let him know if it becomes too much. He leans in and m-_

**Click**

“Seriously, will you stop with that sound? It’s driving me insane!”, Angie says from across the room, glaring at Cyrus over her piece of cake. Cyrus shrugs and laughs, getting up from the couch he was sitting on and walking closer to the island she is sitting at. Ortega briefly wonders if he will have to step in before it turns into a fight – tries not to think about whether getting up would be a good idea right now – and fails to not watch Cyrus walking.

“Sorry about that,” Cyrus says, finally taking his hand out of the pocket and away from the clicker Ortega _knows_ is in there, reaching for the fridge door instead. “I just got a bit bored.” He grabs a beer and winks as he slams the door closed again with his hip. The bastard doesn’t even bother looking over at Ortega. Mierda. Ricardo just wishes he wasn’t this fucking hard over it.


End file.
